The Magic of Parenting
by LauraWalden
Summary: A seris of one-shots, each with a different parenting theme and set of wizarding parents.
1. Diapers: The Lovegoods

_A/N: I think this is going to be a series of one-shots, each with a different parenting theme. Although Harry and the other characters in the series were born in the early 1980's, some of the same thoughts, feelings and struggles that their parents went through transcend time. Each chapter will focus on a different parenting "theme" and a different set of parents, although some couples may repeat._

_First up: The Lovegoods. I have no idea what Mrs. Lovegood's name is. However, a brilliant author in the Reviewer's Lounge "All I want for Christmas" project has Xeno calling her "Kitten." Borrowing from that, I've named her Katherine since "Kitty" is a nickname for Katherine. I always pictured the Lovegood's as sort of hippies; if they were Muggles, I think they would be real mother earth types! (Nothing wrong with that, of course, seeing as I lean towards the hippie side of things.)_

**Paper, Plastic or Cloth: Diapers**

**The Lovegoods**

"Xeno, darling," Katherine called to her husband, who was cleaning up the supper dishes. "Come look at this article in _Magical Baby_."

"Yes, sweetheart," he said as he put down his wand. The dishes magically settled on the counter, sparkling in the evening sun. "What is it, love?" Katherine Lovegood shifted in the loveseat, the sun's last rays catching in her blond hair. Xeno settled next to her on the couch, looking over her shoulder at the glossy magazine.

"It's about diapers," she said, her brow furrowed in worry. "I never thought of it, sweetie, but we're going to have to diaper this baby."

Xeno chuckled at the cause for his wife's concern. "Well, of course we are! It'll be a little while before our young one is toilet trained, and…"

"Learned, honey. Trained makes Baby sound like an animal and he or she will be so much smarter, won't Baby? Humans learn to use the toilet; animals need to be trained."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Baby will be several years old before he or she is toilet learned and we'll have to use diapers until then."

"But what kind?" Katherine asked, her brow furrowed again.

"What do you mean, what kind? The kind that holds what it needs too, of course!"

"Oh, Xeno!" she sighed with a little chuckle. "This article talks about the different kinds of diapers. You can use the kind you throw away, cloth, which you have to rewash or none at all!"

"None at all?" Now Xeno's brow was furrowed as he leaned over her shoulder, staring intently at the article.

"Yes, it's called elimination communication. The parent learns when the child needs to use the bathroom by watching for signals from the baby. When the child signals it needs to go, they are held over the toilet."

"That is certainly interesting," said Xeno, settling back. "What else does the article say?"

"Well, about that, not much else. Of course, paper diapers are the most common but, love, I don't really want to use those. The article says that they can cost over a thousand Galleons a year and they take up space in the landfills. I just can't fathom spending that much money on something that is going to hurt our precious earth!"

"And cloth?"

"Well," said Katherine, flipping a page in the article, "you have to wash those and that does take water. But they are so cute, look!" She held up the page in the fading light and Xeno studied the pictures of diapers that magically changed color if the child dirtied them with a concentration hitherto only seen when he was looking at drawings of Nargles.

"They are cute," he agreed. "But, sweets, you have to wash, dry and fold them. Don't you think you will have enough to do with nursing and caring for Baby? Of course, I'll glad help," he added hastily, when he saw the look on her face, "I'm only thinking of when I have to go to Sweden to look for the Snorkack."

"But Baby and I will go with you. I sent off for one of those Muggle backpacks. Baby can just come along with us and sleep on my cot. Perhaps we can bring the cloth diapers with us and magic them home," she mused, smiling. "Or buy a new tent with washing abilities."

"I see you have it all figured out," Xeno chuckled, leaning over to kiss her little nose. She wrinkled it, making him chuckle again.

"Diapers, Xeno," she said, rustling the magazine under _his _nose. "We need to order them, you know. Should we get the pink ones, the ones that change color, the odor absorbing ones or…?"

"Whatever you prefer, dear," he said, this time leaning in and over her belly to kiss her full on the mouth. "Whatever you prefer."


	2. Nursing: The Potters

_A/N: When you read this, please remember that we are dealing with 19 to 20 year old men, most of whom have not had much experience with babies. James and co seem to have a great sense of humor and somehow I think it would come out in a situation like this. (And, yes, as a nursing mother, I have been on the receiving end of such comments! They were from a much loved family member and meant in good humor, though.)_

_I will probably up the rating because of this story. While I do not believe that breastfeeding is a dirty thing at all, some parents do and should be warned accordingly._

**Just Like His Godfather: Nursing**

**The Potter's**

"Jaaaammeeess!" Lily plaintive wail reached James' ears, even though he was as far away from their bedroom as he could be. With a sigh, he set down the cup of boiling water he was preparing for tea and trotted to the bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Yes?" he asked, poking his head around the half open door. He was more than slightly amused to see his normally level headed and calm wife staring at the front of her shirt with her mouth hanging wide open.

"Look… at… this!" she gasped, pointing to the large wet spot that was slowly spreading across her chest. "I'm… sweet Merlin, what happened? I have rocks on my chest and they are _leaking_!"

"Um, I think your milk is in?" he said, resisting the urge not to snicker. Yes, he had learned one thing in seventy-two hours of parenting: do not laugh at your hormonal wife. Ever.

"This hurts," Lily moaned, gently lifting her shirt away from her chest. "I think the midwife said ice? Or heat?"

"Both?" suggested James. "A different one on each side?" Lily snorted.

"Not funny. Can you get me Harry? I think he's the only one who can help me here."

It was on James' tongue to make a comment about just who could help Lily with her problem but he figured being blasted to the other end of Godric's Hollow probably wasn't in his best interest. With a nod, he walked over to the bassinet and picked up little three-day old Harry. His son stirred when his father's warm hands touched his neck and opened one eye.

"Hey there, little feller," said James with a soft grin. "Mummy's got a little job she needs your help with."

But baby Harry refused to help. He opened his mouth wide and tried to latch on, but couldn't or wouldn't. Time and time again, James helped Lily hold his little head just right, like the midwife showed him but Harry mewled in protest. His tiny cheeks turned red and he finally began to howl in between trying vainly to latch on.

"I'm a failure at this!" Lily sobbed, sweaty and sore, after twenty minutes trying. She grabbed a burp cloth from the table and buried her unwashed face in it, sobbing. "I can't even feed my own baby! He's going to need a bottle! I've failed as a mother! And I don't even have my own mother to help me!"

"You have not failed," said James, bouncing the howling baby on once shoulder and reaching around to hug his howling wife. "He just… doesn't know what to make of the new food. Maybe… maybe you're too big?" Lily cried harder. "No! Not like that! Maybe… there's too much milk?" _I can't believe I'm talking about my wife's… you know… in this manner! Like they are… bottles or something to feed a baby with. I mean, they are, but… MERLIN! _"Can you get rid of the milk or something?"

As suddenly as she began, Lily stopped crying and stared at James with red eyes. He took a step back, fearing the worst but she began to laugh. "James Potter, you are brilliant! Take Harry downstairs and I'll be down in a minute, ready to try again. Oh, and can I have a cup of that tea that the midwife left? And some scones, please?"

"You know what?" James said to his upset son as soon as they were out of Lily's earshot. "Women are bloody insane. You're mother's great and all, but she's still bloody insane."

Ten minutes later, a happier (and slightly deflated) Lily was settled on the couch with Harry in her arms. Harry had gone from merely upset to royally pissed off, but with a little gently coaching from Lily and some help from James, he was soon sucking away, enjoying his meal.

"Better?" asked James and Lily flashed him a blissful smile.

"Never better. Well, my bum's still a little sore, but, yes, this is great. I think we have enough pillows," she added, glancing at the one under Harry, and then one each under both arms. "Maybe you could take your hands away and give me a bite of the scone?" Softly, gently, James removed his hands from under Harry's little head and bum. Popping a bite of scone into Lily's mouth (both her hands being preoccupied with feeding Harry), he took a bite for himself before the doorbell sounded.

"Who is calling now?" shrieked Lily. Harry's eyes flew open at his mother's noise but he remained attached, nursing and frowning. "Look at me! I haven't had a shower in two days! I'm sitting here with my shirt open!"

"Relax," said James, heading towards the front door with his wand out. "It's probably only Dumbledore."

"DUMBLEDORE!" shrieked Lily, not hearing his chuckles as he waved his wand, muttering the incantations that would allow him to know who was on the other side without even opening the door.

"Never mind! It's Sirius!" yelled James as the new godfather stepped into the room, armed with two six-packs of butterbeer and a stuffed dog.

"Not much better!" Lily yelped and Sirius gave James a confused and slightly affronted look.

"She's feeding the baby," James supplied, taking the butterbeers from him.

"Oh, good! I know all about feeding babies," Sirius bragged. "Maybe I can help." Before James could get a word in edgewise, Sirius trotted off the to the living room, where he suddenly stopped short and yelped. "You didn't tell me she was feeding him like that!" he cried, rooted to the floor in shock. James came up behind him, snickering at the sight of his friend's beet red face and Lily's grumpy expression.

"Honestly, Sirius, how else am I supposed to feed the baby?" Lily grumbled. "James, I can't reach my wand. Do you mind?" Still holding the drinks, James managed a little flick with his wand and a large receiving blanket unfolded itself and floated over to Lily. With another gentle flick, it settled around the nursing duo, only moving with the odd uncoordinated kick from Harry.

"You didn't tell me she was naked!" Sirius rounded accusingly at James, who was busy uncorking butterbeers and passing them around.

"I'm not naked!" scowled Lily.

"She's not naked," confirmed her husband. "Besides, you've seen her topless before."

"True," said Sirius amusingly as Lily snapped, "ONCE! Just ONCE! And how was I supposed to know he was going to drop by just as I got out of the shower! MEN! And who are all these people?" asked Lily suddenly as the doorbell sounded again.

"I, uh, took the liberty of inviting Remus and Peter over," said Sirius, very glad Lily wasn't able to access her wand. "Sorry."

"You will be," muttered Lily as her husband went to open the front door.

"Where's this new son of yours?" she heard Remus cry and cringed as the young men entered the room with bright, beaming smiles, only to stop short when they saw her. "Uh, Lily, hullo."

"What _is_ your _problem_?" snapped Lily, wishing, for the first time, that her son would finish his meal so she could hex someone.

"Nothing, just glad to see you." Remus recovered enough to lean forward and kiss her cheek without blushing, but poor Peter was still staring at the floor.

"Come in, sit," said Lily with a sigh. "Join the crowd." Their friends entered the living room, grabbing butterbeers off the table and positioning themselves around the room. They were oddly quiet, strained even, until she snapped, "I'm just feeding the baby, you know. Nothing weird or gross or… whatever. He just needs to eat and I make milk. So I feed him. You can talk normally around me."

"Yeah, but Lils honey, it's a bit weird to be sitting here chatting about Quidditch with Harry chomping away at your… you know," said Sirius earnestly. James' mouth twitched and he took a hasty gulp of butterbeer to stop a snicker.

"Merlin, Sirius, it's not like you can see anything!"

"Now," he added, taking advantage of her wand-less state. Lily gave him a dirty look that, had she had her wand, might have put Sirius into a significant amount of misery.

"I don't know," Remus said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his drink. "I would think that you're awful proud of him."

"Huh?" said Sirius blankly.

"I can't totally tell from here," said Remus with a gentle nod of his head towards the gulping sounds Harry had begun to make, "but it seems to me that your godson is enjoying his… _meal. Immensely."_ The whole room sat in a bemused silence for a moment until Lily snorted and James rolled his eyes.

"Oh!" The light dawned on Sirius' face and he gave a short bark of a laugh. Peter, however, looked confused.

"I don't get it," he muttered, annoyed at being left out of the joke…again. "Harry's eating. Should Sirius be proud of him because he likes to eat?"

James began to laugh and even Lily had a chuckled. "Yes, Peter," said Remus all too innocently. "Sirius likes to eat. So does Harry. Therefore, Sirius should be very proud of Harry."

"Right," muttered Peter, not looking entirely convinced.

"Here." With careful movements, Lily unlatched Harry and brought him out from under the blanket, a blissful, milk-drunk smile on his face. "I need someone to burp him."

"You were bragging that you knew about feeding babies, Padfoot," said James with a smile. Sirius stuck his tongue out at him ("Mature!") before carefully taking Harry in his big hands.

"Oh, oh, oh!" he cooed as his godson looked at him through hazy eyes. "There, easy now." Very slowly, he positioned him on his shoulder, sans burp cloth. "There! James, what are you complaining about? See, he's not fragile. I've got him."

"Yeah, but you still have to burp him," Lily pointed out as she finished cleaning up from Harry's feeding session.

"So, what? I pat his back like this?" Sirius demonstrated, gently patting Harry's little back. "And then he burps. Right?"

"That would be about all my son has accomplished in three days of life," James nodded. Peter laughed.

"I'm patting his back. Hey, Harry, I'm burping you!" he muttered impatiently. "Gotta give me something here." And then, as if on cue, little Harry burped… and deposited most of his lunch down his godfather's back.

The room was silent, everyone staring at the pair in amused shock.

Then… there was a deep rumbling and a substance that was clearly a cross between lava and hot mustard began to leak onto Sirius shirt.

There was no silence, as the adults began to laugh. Peter's drink spilled on the floor, James had his head between his knees and Remus's face was thrown skyward as tears streamed down his face. Even Lily was laughing as she took her son (Was that a glimmer of mischief in his eye?) from his frozen godfather.

"Yes, Sirius, you should be very proud of Harry!" said Remus between laughs. "Between his love for… _food_ and that little display right there, I'd say he's exactly like his godfather!"


	3. Love: The Malfoys

**I Love You, my Son: Love**

**The Malfoys**

Narcissa Malfoy bent over and picked up her son out of his walnut, hand carved crib. The light blanket of the finest fairy-woven Egyptian cotton fell to the floor as she cuddled her six week old son to her chest. With a sigh, she sat in the rocker, inhaling his milky baby scent.

"I love you, my son," she whispered gently.

Her labor with baby Draco had been fast and furious, a total of 3 hours from the first contraction to little Draco's wailing. Mrs. Black had sniffed when Narcissa informed her, sweating and beaming, of this.

"Hum! A _lady_ suffers agonies to bring a child into the world," she informed her youngest daughter. "Only Muggles and House-Elves give birth so fast."

(For the first time in her life, Narcissa thought that perhaps being a Muggle wouldn't be so bad if all her births could be like that.)

She hadn't been sure of the whole baby thing. Sure, she had several House-Elves to help her, one of them specially trained in magical child care. Yes, she knew her duty as a Black, Malfoy and a pure-blood was to bring heirs into the wizarding world (especially since Bella didn't seem too keen on having babies and Andromeda no longer existed). But a baby? All they did was dirty their pants, eat, puke and cry. Sleep? Maybe. The babies she knew (and that wasn't a lot, honestly) seemed to cry more than sleep.

Then Draco was born.

From his first cry, something bloomed in her. The midwife cut the cord and went to hand him to her assistant. "No, bring him here!" she cried, reaching with out stretched, trembling arms to her blue, but rapidly pinking son. The midwife and assistant exchanged a look before she shrugged and plopped the wet and bloody baby on Narcissa's belly.

"Oh, look!" she cooed, pulling him close to study his face. "Look, Lucius, look at our son! Isn't he lovely? He's perfect, just perfect!"

"Now, Narcissa, don't start praising him too much," said her husband, even as his grin grew wider. "We don't want him to think too much of himself."

"Well, why ever not?" she said indignantly, between covering every one of the baby's toes in kisses. "He _is_ the most perfect baby ever! Look at that pretty blond hair and pointed chin! He's the spitting image of his daddy! Aren't you, you handsome tyke?"

(Lucius rather thought that Draco was the spitting image of a goblin in need of a bath but wisely kept this to himself.)

Belatrix and her mother visited a few days later. Narcissa was sitting up right in bed, bathed, her hair combed neatly and wearing a clean dressing gown. Little Draco was nursing, something her older sister commented on before she even sat down.

"Ew, you're doing _that_?" she spewed and Narcissa sat up even straighter, her eyes glowing brightly.

"Of _course_ I am! It is so good for his brain and I want little Draco to be tops in his class at Hogwarts!"

"But it's so disgusting!" she said with a stiff giggle. Both girls looked to their mother for support but it was Narcissa she turned too.

"Bella is right, my dear. Let the House-Elves give Draco a bottle. You have other things to worry about."

"I have nothing else to worry about but my son." A covert glance passed between the oldest daughter and her mother before Mrs. Black spoke again.

"You need to do your duty to the Dark Lord," she said stiffly.

"I am doing my duty!" snapped Narcissa. "Lucius told me the Dark Lord was quite pleased to hear we had a little pure-blood baby and a boy at that!"

"Be that as it may," her mother went on, "you still have a duty. When Lucius comes home from ridding the world of the Muggles and MudBloods, you need to be here to welcome him."

Narcissa gave her mother a confused glance and moved Draco to her shoulder to burp him. "Yes, Draco and I will be most welcoming to his father when he comes home. I expect nothing will be as relaxing as holding his son and remembering why he is doing all this in the first place."

"Lucius doesn't need reminding!" snapped Bellatrix. "You harbor this illusion, Cissy, that babies are comforting. Maybe to women… some women… but men need something more!"

At her confused look, Mrs. Black snapped, "Don't make us spell it out for you, child. When your husband comes home from the war, _you_ need to be warm, welcoming and relaxing, not crying your eyes out with spit up on your robes and a baby glued to your chest! You!" she snapped at a nearby House-Elf, who jumped and hesitantly walked over to Mrs. Black. "Take Young Master Draco from his mother and see that he sleeps in his nursery tonight." The Elf nodded and reached up for the baby. Narcissa hesitated but a glare from her sister sent little Draco straight to the Elf's arms.

If Lucius noticed that Draco wasn't in his bassinet that evening, he didn't say anything. Narcissa lay curled up on her side, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. Yet she still woke every few hours to a distant wail from the nursery, crying silent tears as her son was taken care of by the servants.

Narcissa sat at the large dining room table, awkwardly spooning porridge into her mouth. It was early in the evening and little Draco had just finished crying. With his skinny knees pulled up to his chest and his little mouth opened wide in pitiful wails, Narcissa had been helpless to do anything other than ride out the storm. Finally, tired and spent, he had fallen asleep on her chest and she as reluctant to put him down for fear of waking him and starting the storm of tears all over again.

Without warning, Mrs. Black swept into the room, making an unannounced visit. "What _are_ you doing?" she hissed, her beady eyes narrowing in on her daughter holding her grandson.

"Trying to finish dinner, Mother."

"Dinner?" She sniffed at the porridge. "I would hardly call this _dinner_, Narcissa. Surely you don't plan to feed Lucius this when he comes home?"

"No, Mother."

"What about the House-Elves? Are they not capable of fixing you a proper dinner?"

"Yes, Mother, but…" Her voice trailed off, suddenly feeling that she should not tell her mother that she sent the House-Elves to rest after Draco's crying. The poor creatures had tried to help but nothing could comfort him and their ears, being rather large, magnified his cries.

"And _why_ are _you_ holding the baby and eating? There are servants for this, child!"

Narcissa sighed and finally turned to face her mother. "He was crying," she said lamely. "Poor little tyke has something wrong with him and he just cried himself to sleep. I don't want to put him down; I'm afraid he'll wake."

Mrs. Black pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Narcissa could see her calculating, the wheels turning behind her fuzzy black hair. Finally, she hissed, "You must never hold a child while they are crying! That gives into the crying and teaches them to whine and simper to get what they want! You!" she barked, snapping her fingers. Out of nowhere, a House-Elf appared, flinching at the loud noise and holding her head. "Take young Master Draco to his nursery and place him in his crib. If he cries, leave him." The House-Elf glanced at Narcissa but she didn't return the look. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take him!" Slowly, the Elf reached up and gently took the sleeping child from his mother's arms. He stirred but did not awaken.

"Narcissa Malfoy, how many times do I have to tell you that your responsibility in these trying times is to your husband? He is out there working for the betterment of society, riding the world of Muggle- Borns and Mud-Bloods and here you sit, eating porridge for dinner! Get up! Get changed! He ready to greet him when he comes home! You need…"

But Narcissa didn't hear her, as she watched her newborn be carried away by a servant.

Very gently, strong, rough hands picked up the baby. Lucius Malfoy glanced around but the creak outside the bedroom door seemed to be the sound of the house settling, not his wife or a House-Elf spying on him. Swiftly and covertly, he nestled the baby onto his chest and began humming. It wasn't the first time he had done this and he knew the baby liked it.

Draco smiled in his sleep and his father dropped a kiss on his head. "I love you, my son," he whispered. "How I love _you."_

_A/N: While writing this, I had a wonderful song about St. Gianna Molla running through my head. In deference to the new artist, Fr. Kent O'Connor, I will not post the lyrics here. This is not a song fic because I do not think a song about a saint "works" with the Malfoys. (Or maybe it does? Hum, you decide!) Anyway, the chorus is something like, "You're my child. I love you. You are my delight… I would rather die than have harm come to you." I think that fits in nicely with the Malfoys tale and, in this one-shot, it shows how Draco's parents did indeed love him very much but were barred from showing it to him._

_Also, I wrote that Andromeda no longer existed. Since she was blasted off the tree, to her sisters, she no longer existed._


	4. Prayers: The Longbottoms

_A/N: I was at a meeting the other night and saw the friendliest, cutest baby who sucked his thumb with his finger over his nose. It was just the cutest thing and had to end up here!_

_The Muggle prayer Alice was saying to Neville is the Guardian Angel Prayer, the correct version of which can be found here Hers is slightly "off" since she was remembering it from childhood and we often hear things differently or "not quite right" as children._

**Remember Me: Prayer**

** The Longbottoms**

Alice Longbottom cuddled chubby, 18 month old Neville in her lap. With a deep sigh, she leaned back into the rocker, gently rocking him and humming a random tune with no words. Little Neville leaned against her, his thumb in his mouth, one finger crooked around his nose, his tattered blanket in his other hand. Alice's fingers gently stroked the silken, frayed edge, inhaling the deep scent of her rose perfume that had rubbed off on his little head.

Unbidden, familiar words stirred at the edge of her memory. She closed her eyes and sighed again, straining to remember something her gran had once said…

Then a wizened old voice whispered in the back of her head as she whispered the same words into her son's shell-perfect ear:

_Angel of God, my guardian dear_

_For whom God's love commits me here_

_Ever this day be at my side_

_To guard and love_

_Rule and guide._

Smiling slightly, Alice glanced at Neville. He still had a death grip on his blanket, but his eyes were closed. Gently, she lowered him into his crib. He stirred but did not awaken. Tucking the warm quilt Augusta had made for him around him, she leaned down and quickly kissed her son before putting protective charms around his room. Shutting the door silently, she walked quickly down stairs. Frank smiled at her from behind the paper.

"You know, you don't have to do that anymore," he said nodding towards Neville's room.

"I know," she returned, rubbing her arms and settling on the couch next to him, "but I'm paranoid. I sleep better knowing that if a stranger were to go into his room, they would only see empty boxes, not a sleeping baby." Frank nodded.

"Say, what was that you were telling Neville? I heard you over the monitor charm," he added at her bemused look.

"Oh." Alice blushed and picked up _Magical Baby: the Second Year_. "It's something my gran said to me when I was a baby. I think…" she screwed up her face in thought, "that she had a Muggle best friend who taught it to her. Anyway, when we would spend the night with Gran, she would recite it over us before we went to bed. Pretty, isn't it?" Frank grunted in agreement.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said in an offhand manner. "Want to go to Diagon Alley and do some post-holiday shopping?"

"Oh, yes!" agreed Alice eagerly. "Neville is growing so fast and he needs some…." She stopped. "Frank," she said slowly, staring at the large Foe-Glass mounted on the wall behind him, "someone is coming to the door."

Frank rose slowly, his wand at the ready. "I wonder who it is this time of night."

**oooOOOooo**

Fire engulfed Neville, a strong, hot burning.

_If I die, _he thought recklessly, his head encased in the Sorting Hat_, then I don't care! Take me now; life with Voldemort in power isn't much of a life._

Suddenly, the smell of burning was replaced with the strongest scent of roses. A memory stirred in Neville, something was there… _my guardian dear…_

And the Sword of Gryffindor was in his hands and he slew the snake…


	5. Promises: The TonksLupins

**The Unbreakable Vow: Promises**

**The Tonks-Lupin Family**

Dora Tonks-Lupin stood at the window of her small childhood bedroom, cradling baby Teddy in her arms. A crescent moon was beginning show through the rising dusk, a glowing yellow moon hanging in a deep purple- blue sky, peeking just above a tree with spring buds on it- bursting buds, ready to spring open with life. The air was still, heavy, as if the early spring was about to burst and give way to an even earlier summer.

The air was waiting.

Uneasily, she sifted Teddy in her arms, kissing his soft hair. The baby wrinkled his nose but didn't waken, although his mother knew that soon he would be howling with hunger.

"Dora." Her name rose softly on the stairs, curling around her like a hug. She smiled.

"Yes, Remus?"

"We need you down here, please." It was a command, not a request.

Dora walked down the stairs carefully; even after several weeks of being a mother, she was still afraid of tripping and dropping the baby. Remus and her mother were in the living room, staring at a spot on the rug as if they expected it to jump and bite them.

The dusk was still.

"Arthur sent a Patronus," her husband began without preamble. "Harry showed up at Hogwarts. We're fighting."

"Fighting?" she echoed, clutching the baby tighter to her chest.

He nodded. "The Order is Apperating into Hog's Head. Apparently, there's a way into the castle that has not been found by the Death Eaters. The Weasley's are headed there, as is the members of the DA who are of age." A wry smile played across his lips. "He wants Harry and will stop at nothing to get him." Remus reached behind him and pulled a traveling cloak off the hook on the wall. "I'm leaving."

"NO!" Andromeda and Remus turned to Dora, stunned. "You can't leave!"

"Dora, honey…"

"This is war, love," Remus said calmly, looking straight into her eyes. "I promised to fight. I need to go."

"Then I'm going too," she said recklessly, holding the baby towards her mother. Andromeda took a step back, holding up her hands.

"No," he said firmly. "You stay here with Teddy and your mother. I will return when it's over."

"I'm an _Auror_," she said just as firmly, "and trained to fight Dark Wizards. That's my job. _You_ stay with Teddy; _I'll go."_

"No." This time, both Andromeda and Remus spoke, but it was her mother who continued.

"You just had a baby and are in no condition to fight. Teddy needs his mother. Stay. We'll wait."

"Nonono!" cried Dora, tears streaking down her face. "I can go, I can fight! Let me…" But Remus reached out, hugging her tightly, Teddy squished between them.

"I have to go," he whispered in her ears. "I have to fight, to make the world a better place for him and you. I promised Sirius I would protect Harry. They would protect Teddy, if it was different. I have to go."

"Don't leave me," she begged quietly, her own tears soaking his thin jumper.

"I will never, ever leave you," he promised, hugging her tighter. She knew his words for what they were- a vow forever and eternity. "I will always be here for you and Teddy." They broke apart, Remus kissing Teddy's face and hands before giving his wife a long, slow kiss.

"I love you," she said.

"I know." With a soft smile, Remus walked to the door.

The night was still, not a breeze ruffling the buds on the trees.

Swinging his cloak over his shoulders, he bounced down the steps of the front porch and walked to down the garden path, just outside the anti-Apperation spells. With another small smile and a final wave, he turned on one heel and was gone.

"No." The word fell from Dora's lips, more a moan than anything else. Her mother caught her under her arms, swiftly grabbing the baby before Dora's knees gave way. "He's gone," she sobbed.

"I know, I know," soothed Andromeda, leading her daughter to the sofa.

"He left."

"He left to fight," she reminded her gently. "Look, here's Teddy. He's hungry." The little baby was sucking his fists frantically. "Sit, feed him. I'll make some tea and grab some of those biscuits you like too." Dora nodded numbly, taking her son as her mother left the room.

A small breeze ruffled the buds of the trees outside and the night grew darker.

When Andromeda returned with a tray laden with tea and enough biscuits for the entire Order, Dora's tears were dry. Smiling slightly, she sent the tray down and put herself on the sofa next to her daughter. Taking Teddy from his mother, she grabbed a cloth and tossed it over her shoulder. "Better, little man?" she asked, holding him up to burp him. "Have a cuppa, dear," she added, nodding to the tray.

"Mum." Her daughter spoke quietly, not looking at her mother nor Teddy but at her own hands, a firm, set look upon her face. Andromeda's heart sank.

"No, Dora."

"Yes, Mum. I have to."

"No, Dora, listen to me!" Andromeda cried wildly, reaching to turn her daughter to her. "You have to stay here, with Teddy and me. Remus wants you too."

"I can't… you don't…" she began, before breaking down again. "I have to go," she sobbed quietly into her hands. "I can't not know."

"I know, I know," her mother soothed, reaching out to draw her only child into the comfort of her arms, little Teddy laying on the couch next to her. "I know you love him, I do. But please, think of Teddy…" _And me._

"I am, I am!" she cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "Don't you see, Mum, I have to do this. I have to go. For Teddy." She broke away, staring at her mother with wide, red eyes. "But I don't know what I would do without Remus."

_Go on, _her mother thought. _You have a son who needs you, who loves you. You go on._ But reason would be no use; she knew Dora better than that. She was loving and passionate and headstrong and stubborn… _just like her mum, _Ted would often remark with a wry grin when they butted heads. _Two peas in a pod, you are. Can't reason with either one of you._

"I know," said Andromeda again. Quickly, she pulled her into another tight hug. "You are a stubborn, loving young woman and I am so, so proud of you," she whispered into her daughter's shocking pink hair. "I love you and couldn't have asked for a more special, better daughter than if I had hand-picked you from a garden of babies. I love you so much." A sob escaped Dora's lips and she pulled away, looking from her mother to Teddy.

"Promise me," she said in a rush, "that you will look after Teddy if I don't come back."

"Dora…"

"Promise me!" she said urgently, grabbing her mother's hands in hers. "Love him, take him, raise him. Please, Mum, promise me you will look after him!"

"I promise," said Andromeda and suddenly a warm light encased their hands, glowing and warm and bright. They both jumped in shock.

"I didn't mean it!" Dora said wildly. "Mum, honestly, I didn't mean it! I didn't mean to make an Unbreakable Vow with you!"

"Sh, sh," whispered Andromeda, reaching out to comfort her once again. "Listen to me, Dora. A promise between mothers, a mother and a daughter, is the strongest magic there is. Love brought Teddy into this world and love is taking Remus to Hogwarts tonight. But the love and promises between parent and child run deeper than that, stronger than the love between a man and a woman. It's unbreakable. You will never leave Teddy and neither will I. I promise to love him and keep him safe, no matter what the outcome of tonight. I love you, and Remus," she whispered, cradling her daughter's pink head against her shoulder.

Moments passed before Dora stood, scooping up the tiny Teddy in her arms, kissing every inch of his body. He didn't seem to mind; instead of crying, he gave a faintest ghost of a baby smile, listening to her frantic murmurs of love.

The wind picked up.

Dora handed Teddy over to Andromeda slowly, reluctantly. Taking her cloak from the hook, she draped it over her shoulders, pausing with her hand on the front door knob. After kissing her mother and son once again, she gave the door a nudge. The wind opened it for her, pulling her out onto the front porch. She stumbled down the steps, the wind picking up even more, her cloak billowing out behind her.

The wind swirled around her, up and over, as if urging her to turn. She paused for only a moment, watching Teddy and her mother in the doorway, her mother struggling to hold onto Teddy's blanket in the strong wind. He was facing her, and Dora saw Andromeda give one of Teddy's hands a limp little wave. She returned the gesture, smiling slightly, before the wind urged her again. She turned and disappeared.

The wind picked up, howling, no longer waiting.


	6. Siblings: Molly Weasley

Percy was my surprise

Just One Prewett: Molly Weasley

Siblings

Percy was my surprise.

I'd like to say that all six of my pregnancies were planned but it's not true. After Charlie was born, I told Arthur I was done. I had spent my childhood chasing after two boys, 15 months apart in age and constantly 15 seconds from trouble, and it seemed as if my parenting years were going to be doing the same: chasing after toy broomsticks, wiping mud from faces, pretending to be a roaring dragon. Two boys in youth, two boys for my adult years and that was that.

Gideon and Fabian ruined that for me. Rather, their death ruined it for me.

Fifteen months apart and always in trouble together, Fabian and Gideon. At Hogwarts, I was the one to pull them from the Forest, I stopped them from putting itching powder on the Slytherin table and I bore the brunt of their jokes. Yes, the exploding cake was funny… once, on my thirteenth birthday. It was not funny four years later when the cake our mum specially ordered from a fancy Muggle bakery exploded, covering all our guests in lemon-cream icing.

(_But it was a boring Muggle cake! _They protested when I ran after them, covering their lemon creamed faces in hexes_. The roses didn't move or anything… we had to make it more interesting._)

My pesky little brothers, more trouble than love as children… the reason my children claim I have a Super-Sensory Charm for a brain (I grew to knew when they would sneak up on me), the reason I can duel so well (I had to have a come-back fast or there would be another prank upon me, faster than Uncle Bilius could sneak Firewiskey at Christmas), the reason I bore seven children.

I was _done_ after Charlie, I told Arthur. I don't want any more children. These two are taking after my brothers and I can only do so much, what with you working and all. Besides, there's a war going on. Should we really bring another baby into this world? Really?

I cried when I found out Percy was coming.

Ah, Molly, said Fabian when I told him. That's wonderful! Another little baby! Another reason for the Order to keep going!

Bother the Order, I snapped. While you're out fighting Dark Wizards and trying to _make a difference for my sons_, as you put it, I'm puking my guts up, wiping faces and cleaning bums! Just like I did for you!

You puked for us? asked Fabian innocently, only to be at the receiving end of a Bat-Bogey Hex.

Percy was loved, Percy was wanted but Percy wasn't planned. When I saw his little red face, I loved him… but felt a pang of annoyance that even the unplanned surprise baby was a boy. Three boys! Couldn't I have a little girl to play dollies with, to dress in frilly dressed, to play tea party with?

Three was it. Three was enough. We had just enough room and money for three. We could send three to Hogwarts comfortably but with only just enough left over. Three stretched our budget, three made the tiny Burrow crowded but we could manage. Barely.

My brothers were thrilled. They came over and bounced the baby until he spit up, levitated Bill and Charlie until they cried tears from laughing and fussed over me.

Three boys! they cried. Three strapping red-headed boys! Ach, this is the reason we keep fighting, so our nephews will know a better world. You make bonny babies, Moll! Have more!

Then Dumbledore came to our door. I knew when I saw him, tears shimmering behind his glasses. It was the only time I had seen him cry . . . until I saw nothing but the empty blackness.

Empty. Black. That's all I felt, all I could feel, for days. Our parents were dead; our only living relatives were ancient. I had to plan the funerals, I had to make the arrangements. All my life I spent getting my brothers out of mud and clean for dinner. Now I was preparing them for the earth, to become one with the earth. Ashes to ashes…

The viewing was at the Burrow. Order members fumbled by, murmuring their condolences. Arthur accepted the words for us, little Charlie holding his hand tightly. Bill stood to one side, as far away from the coffins as possible. I clung to the toddler Percy, rocking him back and forth although he needed no soothing. He was quiet, solemn, his thumb in his mouth. I needed the soothing.

Before Arthur closed the lids on their coffins, I reached in to squeeze Fabian's hand. It was cold, stiff, still. No life. I didn't touch Gideon.

Then they were buried and the five of us were alone at the edge of the abyss where my brothers would spend eternity. There were five, but just one Prewett left. Me.

Our parents were dead. My brothers were dead. Once there were five and now there was one. Me. Alone.

I looked at Bill, so responsible, yet with a reckless streak. Charlie, so good at sport, so coordinated. Percy, so calm, so quiet, so observant. Yet they loved each other and complemented each other. Where one lacked talent, another had it and would help his brother. They worked together, a team, a team of three Weasley brothers.

Eventually, Arthur and I would go and where there were five, there would be three. But what if something happened to one of them? Would there only be two? Or one? How could they manage without each other? How would the lone brother survive… alone? How would _I_ survive… alone?

Suddenly, it didn't matter. Money didn't matter. Hogwarts didn't matter. Space at the house, room around the table, presents at Christmas… none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was family.

Fred and George were born ten months later. I laughed when they were born, 15 minutes apart. Two boys, two sons! It didn't matter that they weren't girls. It didn't matter that I now had five sons. I had two healthy, breathing babies. When I squeezed their hands, they were warm, moving, soft. When I last looked at my two brothers, I saw death. When I looked at my two sons, I saw _life._

Fred and George, so like their uncles. Fred and George, the two who drove me to distraction. I loved their antics, although it worried me. I wanted them to sit down, to pay attention, to maybe be a little _less_ like their adventure loving, noble uncles. Because maybe if they were less like Gideon and Fabian, I would remember less the sense of nobility, of making- the- world- a- better- place, that drove them to their deaths.

When Ronnie came along two years later, people whispered. Oh, they didn't understand. Yes, we were poor. Yes, Arthur hadn't had a raise since Charlie was a baby. It didn't matter! It didn't! My children were loved, were wanted. If they didn't have a new wand or dress robes, it didn't matter. If money was tight from month to month, it didn't matter. They couldn't see that our house was full… of _life._

When I had Ginny, I stopped caring if I had a girl. Seven sons would suit me fine. I was thrilled, of course, but more because I had a healthy baby than anything. A little sister for the boys to spoil, protect and tease.

And I cried, because my brothers weren't there to see her, dote on her, treat her like a princess.

When Fred died, I saw my children comfort each other. I saw them reach out to their friends, treating Harry, Hermione and the others like siblings. They grieved with them. I saw Bill hold up George, finally making him turn from his twin's grave. I saw Percy accept condolences from all of Hogwarts, it seemed. Ron stepped up to the plate and helped George at the shop. They all comforted each other, forming a tight circle of grief, of tears, of support. Their comfort soothed me as my son was laid to rest near my brothers.

I had done the right thing. I had given my children the greatest gift… each other.

.


	7. Birth: Neville and Hannah Longbottom

_This story is over a year in the writing. I signed up for the Review's Lounge "Birthday" Challenge and began writing. Then I myself became pregnant and my husband had surgery. Between caring for him, morning sickness and my other two children . . . yeah, not much time. _

_Then the baby was born prematurely and writing about a nice little birth when mine went so bad wasn't high on my list. Now, six months and a move later, it is finally finished. _

_Side note: There is no "mother and baby" floor At St. Mungo's so I gave Hannah a home birth._

**Birth Days: Augusta Longbottom**

"MRS. LONGBOTTOM!"

I jerked awake, my bedroom lit with soft, silvery glow. A large mare with a long, flowing mane was prancing around my room, speaking in the voice of Ginny Potter. "Mrs. Longbottom, Hannah's in labor and they want you there. When you're ready, send your reply by return Patronus and I'll Floo over to take you to the Leaky." The mare dissolved.

I snorted and flung my feet over the side of my bed. She'd Floo over indeed! What did they think- that I was some old woman who couldn't handle the Floo by herself?

After sending a curt, "I'll be right over, no need to help," I dressed in my most comfortable, smartest suit and hat (a stuffed robin, for the spring) before grabbing my pocketbook. Striding over to the fireplace, I grabbed the walking stick (it _is_ just for show, I don't _really_ need it but it keeps people from crowding me on the street) and was about to grab the Floo powder when the low fire glowed green. A second later, Ginny Potter steps into my bedroom, dusting ashes and soot onto the clean floor. Bother.

"Young lady," I began sternly but Ginny holds up one hand with a grin.

"Good evening to you too," she says smartly. "I know you don't need my help with the Floo but Harry set up protective wards all along the residential rooms of the Leaky. Reporters have been pestering Neville and Hannah day and night, waiting for the birth. Anyway, no one can Floo in or out unless Neville himself has brought you within the charms. He came and got me after the midwife arrived. I can bring you in because I was allowed inside."

"Hurmp," I say, adjusting the clasp on my bag. "I do not need help, young lady," I added, a small hand touched my arm. "You might, however." My gaze flickers over her rounded stomach and she blushes. "How far along on you now, anyway?"

"Four months."

"Four months? Hurmp. I always heard you show more with the third. Well, stop looking like a guppy and get in here!" Ginny closes her mouth and chuckles, before stepping into the fireplace. Firmly taking my arm in her hand (_What is it with these young ones, always trying to help?)_, she shouts, "The Leaky Caldron!" and tosses the powder.

_Two figures scurried up the path in the moonlight. The door to the little cottage banged open and a tall man stepped out. His hair was sticking up and he looked like he needed a good shave._

"_Mum. Dad." He stepped forward to embrace each before ushering them inside. With a wave of his wand, the door sealed itself and glowed brightly for a moment before fading back into the dimly lit hall._

"_How is she, son?"_

"_Alright." Frank ran his hands through his hair and cast a worried glance at the stairs. The sound of water running reached their ears. "She's in the shower now. The midwife says it helps with the pain. It's been awhile, though."_

"_Now, Frank, every husband says that. How long has Alice really been in labor?"_

_Frank smiled ruefully and ticked off the time on her fingers. "We guess the contractions began around 3 but she said they didn't really hurt until 7, soooo…"_

"_Three hours?" suggested Augusta, smiling gently._

_Frank shook his head. "Three am… so about nineteen hours."_

_Oh. That really was "awhile."_

We arrive in the living room of the Leaky's living quarters, Ginny slightly green around the mouth. I step out smartly, ready to help; she leans against the fireplace. I smile slightly. "Floo trips always made me ill when I was with child. Now, where is my grandson and his wife?"

"When I left, they were headed to the bathroom," Ginny said, pushing herself away from the wall. We walk across the bright, neat living room and into the hall. I have to give Hannah credit; she's a first rate housekeeper and witch. Not a speck of dust anywhere. You would never know we were teetering on the edge of Muggle London; all the windows have been charmed to show a pretty English meadow instead of the dirty streets. All Hannah's doing, mind. Neville's a bright boy (the houseplants are _his_ doing) but charming a window scene is beyond him.

A warm mist floated out from under the bathroom door and I could hear a strange voice say, "Breathe in… relax… there you go. It's almost over. Here, have another sip of tea."

"The midwife," explained Ginny, turning the knob to the door.

My granddaughter was floating in a (magically expanded) tub, steaming rising in soft curling waves from the water. Her head was pillowed on a folded towel, one hand holding Neville's, the other curled around her midwife's. Her eyes are closed and she appeared to be asleep; Neville's eyes were wide and he appeares to be shocked. _Silly boy. Babies happen everyday._

"Hannah," he says softly. Her eyes fluttered open. "Gran is here."

"Gran," she whispers softly, letting go of her midwife and reaching for me. I walk forward and take the smooth, white hand in my old, wrinkled one. I feel her hand squeeze before she shuts her eyes again. "So glad you made it."

_Alice was in the bathroom but not in the shower. She wore only a shirt that went down to her knees and thick socks. She was gripping the edge of the sink, swaying back and forth, breathing deeply. The midwife sat on the edge of the nearby toilet, her wand pointed at Alice's belly, one eye on her watch._

"_Perfect," she said when Alice let out a deep sigh and looked up. "This little tyke is taking his… or her… sweet time but is doing just fine."_

"_Wish I could say the same thing for me," muttered Alice, sliding down to a squat. _

"_You're doing perfect too!" laughed the midwife. "Some babies just like to take their time, is all. This babe'll be mellow and easy going, just like the labor. You'll see."_

"_Easy?" snorted Alice. "I- Ooohhhh…." And she rose slowly, breathing deeply and swaying. Frank was at her side, his palm firmly on her lower back, his voice whispering, "One less contraction, that's it. One less contraction until you meet the baby."_

_When the contraction passed, Alice turned her head to her in-laws. "Wotcher," she said with a cheeky, tired grin. "Ready to be grandparents?"_

In all my born days, I've not seen anything like it. The magical, large tub was filled with water, kept at Hannah's preferred temperature with a handy little charm. (The midwife was, apparently, good at charms.) Soft, sweet smelling herbs (ground by my grandson) were mixed in, giving the water a faint purple hue.

"The scent is soothing and the herbs take the edge off the pain," Neville said when he saw me poke it with my cane. Hannah openes one eye to glare at him before closing it again. "Well, the midwife says they do, anyway."

"Well, now. My midwife kept me to my bed when I was birthing your father," I huff, sifting on the hard lid of the loo. A scowl and a wave of my wand (_Why hadn't they thought to use a Cushioning Charm before_?) made it tolerable. "You're not going to have this baby in the water, are you?"

"I don't know," Hannah murmurs.

"We'll see when the time comes," said the midwife smoothly. "Now you there, budge over." Both Neville and I move. "Oh, not you Mrs. Longbottom. The great-gran's get it sit and relax. Neville, scoot down." He does and Hannah turns to the side, exposing her round belly above the water. Another contraction comes, her tight skin growing even tighter, a small moan escaping her lips. The midwife waved her wand and stared at her watch.

"Perfect, just perfect," she soothed when the contraction had passed. "Heartbeat's right on target and you're moving along fine, Hannah. Won't be long now."

_Augusta stood next to Frank, who was rubbing his eyes. "I don't know how she's managed to do this," he said wearily. "I'm beat. It's been 24 hours now and no baby. I honestly don't know how much longer I can keep this up!"_

"_You need to rest," said Augusta sternly._

_Frank looked at her like she had turned into a hippogriff. "My wife is in labor and you suggest I nap? Are you insane, Mother?"_

"_I'm not suggesting you head to the Leaky like your father did when I was in labor with you," she snorted. "Go throw yourself on the couch for half an hour. Dad's down there now. I'll wake you if anything changes." Frustrated at his incredulous stares, she tapped her foot impatiently. "Frank Longbottom, I gather that having birthed my own child and helped at the births of my friends, I can rub the back of your wife and make sure she sips her water as well as you can. Now get!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and stalked back into the bathroom._

"_I sent the father for a nap," she informed the midwife, who laughed._

"_Good, then." She took the shower head and aimed in on Alice's belly. Alice smiled wearily and nodded. "Take off your shoes and hop in there with her. She's having some back pain and wants counter pressure."_

"_Come on Alice," said Augusta, grabbing the sock filled with tennis balls and pressing it against her daughter-in-law's back. "I'll press and you sway. Tell this baby he needs to come out!"_

Hannah was out of the tub, breathing fast and swaying back and forth. The air in the apartment had changed- it was crackling and electric, filled with the waiting promise of new life. The midwife and I exchanged a look- no, not long now.

"Neville." Ginny's gentle voice broke through Hannah's deep breathing. Neville jumped and Augusta recognized the look on his face. He looked like he had lost Trevor the toad- again. "Neville, I think now would be a good time to brew those teas I brought."

"Yes. Right. Tea." He made no move to move.

"Neville…"

"Oh, for goodness sake, child!" I snap, clomping the walking stick on the ground. Neville came out of his revere. "Ginny and the midwife will take care of her. This baby won't come without you here. Let's go make that tea." He nodded dumbly, following me out of the room.

"My boy, you single handily dueled Voldemort's followers in the Ministry, ran the DA by yourself under the Carrows noses and killed that snake. Now why are you looking like Trevor was hit by the Hogwart's Express?" He shrugged, shivering slightly in the coolness of the hall. "Young man, you may about to become a father but don't give me that! What is wrong with you, boy?"

"M-my father," he whispered.

"Still in St. Mungo's, last I checked. What about him?" Neville shuffled his feet, his hands deep in his pockets, mumbling. "Speak up, child. What about your father?"

"I never had a father, alright? So, how am I supposed to be a father if I never had one?"

_Oh. So that is the problem. Silly boy._ "You are a Gryffindor, young man. It doesn't take knowledge to be a good father. It takes guts and bravery and the ability to think on your feet in a crisis. Neville Longbottom, if you can kill a snake with the Sorting Hat on your head and fire around your body, you can be a father." Turning on my heel, I stalk into the kitchen. "Let's get this tea ready for when that baby comes. I doubt it will wait much longer, what with all the racket your wife is making."

_The midwife waved her wand over Alice's belly. The haze left by the spell turned white, then green. A grin spread across her face. "I think we're ready to go," she said._

"_About time," Alice grunted._

"_I'll get Frank," said Augusta, turning on her heel and walking sharply down the stairs._

_Frank was asleep on the couch, his arm flung across his eyes, mouth open. Augusta poked him with her finger. "Frank!"_

"_What!" He sat straight up, instantly awake._

"_Time for that child of yours to make an entrance."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yes, really!" Augusta snapped, but with a smile on her face. "Budge up and go upstairs. We'll wait." With a sleepy crazed smile on his face, Frank bounded up the stairs without looking back. Tired, Augusta sank into the couch, smiling at her husband. "Are you ready to be a Granddad?"_

"It's time," said the midwife smoothly, observing Hannah from a distance as she moaned into Ginny's shoulder. "Where would you like to push, Hannah?"

"I don't care!" she snapped, moaning again. "I just want to be done!" The midwife laughed softly.

"And you will be, love, you will. Soon you will have your own sweet baby in your arms and this will all be behind you, forgotten."

"I doubt it," she moaned, and Ginny chuckled.

"You will," she promised, pushing back Hannah's hair and looping one arm around her waist. "One look at the little face and this will all be worth it."

_Echoes were coming from upstairs, the cries of the midwife to "stop pushing!" and Frank's counting._

"_I'm not pushing!" they heard Alice finally yell. "It's just happening on it's own!"_

"_This kid is sure ready to come now!" Frank said over her voice, laughing. _

"Ginny, you hold one leg," the midwife said briskly. "Gran, you take the over."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Take the other leg and hold it to help push," she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

"Another one's coming," Hannah breathed, grasping Neville's hand. He winced.

"When you feel the contraction, bear down . . . "

"_One, two, three . . ."_

_Alice swore. "Shut UP and stop counting!"_

"_Alright, love."_

"_And don't call me love!"_

Hannah swore. Where the child learned such language. . . . "This hurts!"

"I can see the head!" said Ginny from her spot on the other side of the bed. "I can see it!"

"I . . . don't . . . care!"

"_One more push, Alice! The head's right there!" _

_A grunt, a groan, and then . . . _

_Then . . . nothing._

"A deep breath, Hannah, and give it one more push!"

"You've been saying that for hours! I'm so tired."

"No, really, love, we can see a lovely little head, full of hair! It's almost over, I promise."

"Neville Frank Longbottom, you are sleeping on the couch . . . oh, damn!"

"Push, Hannah!"

Then . . .

_Frank bounded down the stairs, two at a time, the faint cry of a newborn training after him. "It's a boy!" he shouted, throwing himself at his parents. He grabbed his father in an exuberant hug and spun his mother around until she laughed. "A boy! A son! I have a son!"_

"_It's over?" Augusta asked, dazed._

"_Yes, yes, it's over! After all that time, he was born in ten minutes!"_

"_Name?"_

"_Nevlle. Neville Frank Longbottom."_

"Look!" And suddenly, the air is filled with a lusty cry and the midwife is holding a wiggly, wet, bloody, failing created, who is obviously quite upset at the cold welcome it is receiving. "Neville, Hannah, look at your daughter!"

"Daughter?" Neville says in wonder as the baby is plopped on his wife's stomach. "We have a girl?"

"That is generally what a daughter is, yes," I say smartly, as Ginny begins to cry. I never understand why women cry at these things. Oh, dear, is the roof leaking? Well, the don't call it The Leaky Caldron for nothing, I guess.

"A girl," she coos. "Our sweet, smart, beautiful baby girl. Look how big she is!"

"She is big," agrees the midwife. "I'd say nine pounds. What say you, Gran?"

"Neville was ten," I nod.

"Ten?" he asks in wonder, his eyes never leaving his daughter's face.

"Your poor mother," laughs Hannah, kissing and rubbing the baby with a towel.

"Oh, she's so precious," says Ginny, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a receiving blanket. "What's her name?"

They exchange a look and then Hannah starts to cry. Neville snakes his arm around her and kisses her, murmuring sweet nothings. I look away.

"Well, Gran, we'd like too . . . I mean, if you don't care . . . ."

"Spit it out, child."

"Alice," he says quickly. "Alice Augusta Longbottom."

_Hurmp. Well, he was always a sentimental fool. And why is this roof leaking? I should tell Neville about it. . . . later._

"_Look at him!" said Frank proudly, carefully handing the blue-wrapped bundle to his mother. "Careful, now, hold his head." Augusta shot him a dirty look and her husband laughed._

"_She knows how to hold babies son!"_

"_But not MY baby!" he protested, as if his baby was rare and needed careful handling. _

"_He's MY grandson!" she said indignantly and Alice gave a tired laugh. _

"_He is that. I think he looks like his granddad," she said cheekily. "Completely bald!" Everyone laughed._

"_Listen to them, teasing you," Augusta clucked to the baby. "You aren't bald, you sweet thing. You have little wispy blond hair, yes you do. You are the most handsome baby ever!" Baby Neville yawned and opened an eye. And then . . ._

_Her husband swore it was gas but she knew it was a smile._

The midwife left and poor Ginny Potter, all keyed up, went to the kitchen to fix us all something to eat. Neville ate but Hannah only picked at her food.

"Hannah, eat some toast. You'll thank me later," Ginny said.

"No, really . . ."

"Do you want me to hold little Alice while you eat?" offered Neville.

"Nooo . . ." Her eyes searched the room before she said, "Gran? Will you take the baby for a moment?"

"Hannah, are you . . .?"

"Oh, knock it off Neville!" she snapped. "I need help using the loo and I am sure your gran is capable of sitting in a chair, holding the baby!"

I can see him thinking but a stern look from his wife and a chuckle from Ginny brought a shrug to his shoulders. In a moment, the little bundle was in my lap and Ginny and Neville were helping Hannah to the loo.

Neville was fat, red and squished baby who looked a lot like that Muggle, Churchill. Baby Alice, in spite of the fact that she was five ounces bigger than her father, is round, pink and smells like fairy dust.

"Look at you," I said, shifting her in my arms. "Do you know who you are named for? _Your_ gran, who gave her health and sanity protecting the wizarding world. Do you know what your parents did? Saved us a second time, that's what. But I don't think you care much about that at all. I think you just care about your milk!" She openes first one blue eye, then the next. "At least you have lots of pretty hair. Your great-gran is going to buy you lovely ribbons for your hair, did you know?"

Then . . . .

"Awe, look at that," said Neville as he appeared near my shoulder. "She has gas."

I looked at him sternly. "That's not gas, young man. She's smiling at her great-gran!"


	8. How We Met: Percy and Audrey Weasley

How We Met: Percy and Audrey Weasley

"Daddy," asked eleven year old Molly Weasley, "how did you and Mummy meet?"

Percy Weasley's fork stopped in mid-air, his eyes finding his wife's. She smiled at him while cutting their youngest daughter's pork.

"Try just a bit, sweetie. It's pork chops and I know you like them."

"What brought this question on?" Percy asked, taking a hasty glup of elf-made wine. He choked a little, covering it by clearing his throat loudly.

"Well, we were at Auntie Ginny's and Uncle Harry's," began Molly, her mouth full of green beans.

"Chew and swallow before you speak, sweetheart," chided Audrey gently. Molly gluped and went on.

"We were with Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry's for tea and Victoire said that she always remembers Teddy. Auntie Ginny said she remembers meeting Uncle Harry for the first time when he was ten but met him properly when she was eleven, right before going to Hogwarts. Hugo said his parents met at Hogwarts too but Uncle Bill and Auntie Fluer met at work. I said that I didn't know where you met and Auntie Ginny said I ought to ask you to get the proper story."

"Did you get that?" asked Audrey with a laugh, watching Percy's face pale slightly in the warm candlelight from the two candles that floated safely out of the reach of their daughters.

"I think so. My sister put you up to asking?"

"Uh-huh. I'm sorry," she said after a stern look from her father, "I mean, yes. Auntie Ginny said that it is your story, so you should tell us."

"Oh. Well, yes. Your mother and I," a slight nod to Audrey, "met through the arts." Smiling at his wife, he took a bite of his dinner. "Excellent pork, honey. Is this the new sauce you bought from that Muggle market down the street?"

"Yes, it is. I. . . ."

"The arts?" piped up Lucy. "But which arts? Theater or . . .?"

"It was . . . dance," supplied Audrey. "More green beans, love?"

"Dance?" squealed Molly, her red ringlets bouncing as she clapped her hands. "Oh, Mummy, how romantic! Did you meet at the ballet?"

"Yes!" cried Percy, grabbing at his daughters assumptions. "At the ballet. Your uncles and I all went to . . . the ballet . . . and I met your mother there."

"I was so special," his wife added, unable to resist. "They had back stage passes and I was one of the dancers."

"Audrey," ground out Percy, as his youngest gasped, "Mummy, you were a ballet dancer?"

"Yes, I was. Here, have another bite. More potatoes?"

"Daddy, you never told us Mummy was a ballet dancer!" Molly gasped, missing the red on her father's cheeks. "What ballet was it?"

"I forget," said Percy, taking a large bite of dinner.

"I thought Uncle Ron didn't like the ballet," said Lucy, her brow furrowed. "He always complains when he goes to mine and Rosie's recitals and then Auntie Hermione yells at him."

"Uncle Ron loves the ballet very much," Audrey said, smoothing her daughter's curls. "That's just the way he shows his love for you."

"Molly, how was summer school today?" asked Percy, trying in vain to change the subject.

"It was fine," she said dismissively with a wave of her hand. "Daddy, what did you say when you saw Mummy? Did you love her right away? Was she very pretty? What was she wearing? What did Uncle Ron and Uncle Bill and Uncle George and Uncle Harry . . . was Uncle Harry there?"

"Yes, Uncle Harry was there. He was still dating Auntie Ginny at the time and he was always around. Say, what did Auntie Ginny tell you about the others?"

"Oh, that Uncle Bill met Auntie Fleur at work and everyone hated her but then Uncle Bill got hurt and then they liked her and everyone liked Uncle Harry alright, cause he's Uncle Ron's best friend and all and no one saw Auntie Herimone loving Uncle Ron until the end. Well," she said, pausing only to take a sip of water, "Auntie Ginny said he knew but that Uncle Ron was an insufferable clueless git about it…"

"Watch your language, Molly Weasley!" said her father, shocked.

"I'm sorry. But that's what she said!"

"I think that's enough for tonight," said Audrey smoothly, as her normally pompous yet mild mannered husband turned all shades of Weasley red. With a quick flick of her wand, the dishes rose into the air and floated towards the kitchen, as the candles extinguished themselves. The dim lights rose, bathing the room in a rosy glow. "Run up and get ready for bed, girls. How does ice cream for dessert sound?"

"Yay!" cheered Molly and Lucy, running up the stairs to their bedrooms.

wwwWWWwww

"More wine?" asked Audrey later that night. Percy sat slumped in a chair, his glasses askew. He nodded, holding out his glass. She smiled and poured him a generous glass, before sinking gracefully next to him.

"Remind me to thank my sister for inspiring tonight's dinner conversation," he said after draining half the glass in one go.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's not Ginny's fault. All children wonder how their parents met at some point. It's only natural."

"Natural!" he snorted.

"Yes, natural," she said, reaching one hand around to massage his tired neck. "In fact, all things considered, I'd say she handled it very well."

"But . . . the ballet!"

"It's not that far off, considering," Audrey said, soothing her suffering husband. "And you and your brothers did go out to celebrate your return to the family. That's certainly not a lie. I _was_ a dancer, after all, _and_ I _am_ a classically trained ballet dancer. You know that. I just needed extra money for dance school, that's all."

"Yes," he said with a small nod, "you did."

"I'm not _proud_ of that choice I made but, honestly, it felt like there was no other choice! Believe me, I don't relish one day telling our lovely daughters that when their father met their mother, she was indeed dancing . . . from a pole!"


	9. Trapped: Lily Evans

Outside: Lily Evans

Trapped

When the warm spring sun streamed through the windows of their tiny cottage in Godric's Hollow, Lily would dance around the house, opening windows. As baby Harry rolled into the sunbeams, and the breeze blew through, scented with lilacs, she would pack a picnic lunch, singing as he gurgled along with her. When the sandwiches were ready, she would grab the pram, the brightly colored diaper bag, and Harry. Kissing James on the forehead, they would head out into the sun.

The Muggle park was nearby, filled with people of all ages: dogs on leashes, babies in prams, elderly couples enjoying the mild spring weather. Harry would bounce in his pram, kicking his toes, trying to engage everyone who walked by. He especially liked the shaggy dogs who would lick his face and try and take his teething biscuit.

Often Alice would come, bringing chubby little Neville, who sat placidly in his pram, peering warningly out from under his little sun hat. When the mothers took their babies out to dip their toes in the little babbling stream, Harry would shriek in delight as he tried to dive out of his mother's arms. Neville would cling to Alice, whimpering.

_This boy, I swear! _Alice would laugh. _You'd never know he is the son of an Auror. He'll be in Hufflepuff for sure!_

_Yes, and you know you and Frank will don yellow scarves and cheer for Hufflepuff at Quidditch games! _teased Lily. _Poor James and I will be on our lonesome on the Gyrffindor side. I hope they never play each other for the Cup! Imagine what James would do to Frank if Hufflepuff won! _And the mothers would laugh, imagining their happy babies as young men, out in the world.

When the babies grew fussy, Alice and Lily would spread blankets at the play park and watch the older children play as they fed their sons. Neville would tuck in anything Alice offered, obediently opening his mouth like a little birdy, neatly swallowing any manner of food. Harry was more energetic, lunging for the spoon, grabbing it from Lily's hand, swinging it over his head, shoving it in his mouth, rubbing pureed pumpkin in his hair. Alice would laugh and Lily would threaten to dump Harry in the stream to wash him off.

As the babies napped in the shade, Alice and Lily would chat with the other mums, pretending for a moment that they weren't keeping an eye on the bushes, that they didn't have wands strapped to their legs, under their slacks. They pretended that Frank wasn't home sleeping, tired after a shift with the Aurors and the Order. The pretended James wasn't with Sirius and Remus and Peter, looking over maps for the mission that night. They pretended that the news of a mass killing was the work of a crazed Muggle mass-murderer, not the Death Eaters.

The pretended to simply be mums, planning for their babies future.

_We should do a double birthday party, _suggested Alice and Lily's eyes lit up.

_Yes, we should! At the spray park! I bet the boys would love to splash in the fountains!_

_We could invite the Order, too!_

Lily laughed. _Can you see Dumbledore in swim trunks?_

_Ugh, Lily, now I have that image in my mind! Thanks a lot!_ said Alice with a grimace.

_And Siruis! At a kiddie spray park! _Lily began to laugh uncontrollably. _Remus wouldn't set one toe in the water, Peter won't know what to do and James and Siruis would act like it's for them!_ The mothers laughed so loud their babies stirred and they quickly stifled their giggles.

_Ah, if only Gideon and Fabien Prewitt were still with us_, said Alice soberly._ They would have such fun with our boys. They loved those nephews of theirs._

_That they did, _agreed Lily and both were quiet, remembering.

_I can't wait for the fall, _said Alice, quickly changing the subject._ Frank and I were going to take Neville apple picking. You and James and Harry will have to join us. _

_We'd love to, yes, _said Lily._ Fall is my favorite time of year. I just love the smell of pumpkins, apples and leaves!_

But there was to be no spray park, no apples, no leaves for Harry. One late night, Dumbledore Floo'd to their little cottage with grave news. From that evening on, Lily never opened the windows, no matter how inviting the spring air was. When the house grew warm from the summer sun, she adjusted the fans with her wand. When Harry rolled over to the windows, she pulled him away, lest someone see him. His birthday wasn't at the spray park but a small tea with his parents and elderly neighbor.

It was too dangerous to go to the park with Alice; too dangerous to even see Alice. Yet she managed, and in the fall she sent apple and leaves to Lily, through Siruis. Lily buried her face in the gift from her friend, trying to smell them but really to hide her tears. She couldn't let happy little Harry see her cry, Harry, who was handling being in the house so much better than his parents.

James was edgy. Cabin fever, Dumbledore called it. He skulked around, failing to smile at even the happiest of Harry's antics. He grumbled about losing his Cloak, about Siruis being busy with the Order, about Remus being on a mission, about Peter who rarely came around.

_I'm trapped_, he complained. _It's not fair to be locked up like this. I should be DOING something. _

_We are doing something_, Lily soothed. _We're keeping our son alive._ But the days dragged on, turning into nights. James grew sullen, then quiet and then … happy. As if he had accepted being trapped, being holed up, away from his friends.

When the threat grew worse, deeper, it was James who suggested a Secret Keeper and Siruis who insisted on using Peter. Lily preformed the Charm in front of her husband and friends as little Harry slept nearby. It was Lily who sealed their fate, trapping their secret inside of Peter.

Trapping them in forever, away from the park, the dogs, the fish and the bright sunshine that danced over her son. Trapping them away from friends and the spray park, apples and fall leaves… trapping it inside Peter, so that one day, they would be free.


End file.
